


dé•jà vu

by visophie



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: @god do u kno whats going on here cus i sure dont, It's spelled Ouma, M/M, fake? choking attempt? very slight, who the heck knows what this is honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 12:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13570917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visophie/pseuds/visophie
Summary: noun•	a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.•	tedious familiarity.Except that with him, nothing is ‘tedious’.





	dé•jà vu

**Author's Note:**

> ive been working on this for weeks and it's currently 10am as i finish writing this and. i really have no idea.  
> this came out of nowhere there's like 0? plot?? i wanted to write something sad but then ouma said no and did whatever it is thats happening here
> 
> also before i 4get its unbeta'd and i am Tired

This must be a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time he had dreams ( _nightmares- memories?_ ) including his classmates ( _cold_ _bodies, motives, trials, everybody counting on him to find out the truth, damning the day he solved his first case that got him his title, tears, tears, tears, screams, having to sentence the ones he had thought of as friends, damning the sweet girl who started the game for their sakes, waking up feeling the bile in his throat at the ill feelings from his dreams-_ ), but this wasn’t like any of the previous ones.

It’s way too dark, but still his eyes tries to adjust, and although he can’t see, he can feel the extra weight, the dipping at both sides of his head, and another one on the side of the bed, near his torso. His head feels as if it’s filled with cotton- he can’t think properly but his brain still does all the work nonetheless ( _he locked the door before going to sleep. It didn’t feel like the person weighted a lot. They were short, supposing from where the hands were besides his head, and where they were sitting. It could be three people, were one of them not dead. Two people left, but he already knew who it was, because only one of them could get through a locked door_ ). The result should leave him in a panic, because out of the three, they were the most dangerous, but his body choses to relax instead at the familiar scene he can nearly see in his mind ( _strands of purple hair covering pale purple eyes, a bright wide smile-)_.

There’s an exhale, breath warm ( _comforting?_ ) as it hits his cheek, that peculiar laugh, low, breathy, as if scared to wake him up even though the other knew already he was awake. 

“Saihara-chan,” he’s right. Like always. But he’s not awake enough yet, can’t bring himself to move or reply, “Saihara-chan.” it comes again, a whisper covered in sugar that makes him not want to answer just so he can hear it again. The difference from the usual way he talked was shocking, lacking the high pitched cheeriness that made him sound so childish, “I know you’re awake. I guess you already know what’s going to happen, though, don’t you?”

‘ _Do I?_ ’, The only thing on the detective’s mind at the moment was how he liked how the other sounded right now, a lot. Soft, soothing, it made him want to close his eyes and go back to sleep, feeling for the first time ever since _she_ died a moment of peace, his mind empty as the words seem to almost echo in the room, filling not only the silence but the space, as well filling his mind.

“I’m here to kill you. You were being too nosy, you know~ you’ll totally ruin my plans if I let you live.” Ouma shifts on the bed, and now he’s sitting on his stomach, face moving closer to his own, and Saihara can feel a kiss on his cheek, so gentle and nearly not there that he has doubts if it actually happened or if he’s slipping back into the dream world. “Did my beloved Saihara-chan give up already? I guess it’s not surprising, since you have nowhere to run, now.”

Saihara’s throat scratches as he replies, and he wishes he had a cup of water. “Stop lying.” It’s still hard to focus, his body wanting nothing but to get the rest it so needs.

There’s a second of silence, and then another laugh, slightly louder this time, and it’s Ouma’s hands that move then, circling Saihara’s neck, squeezing just the slightest, making their presence known. “You’re so sure of yourself, Saihara-chan.” There’s another squeeze, thumbs pressing down on his windpipe, and it’s not nearly enough to actually cut his air supply, not strong enough to actually hurt, but it still brings an uncomfortable sensation on his throat, makes him cough involuntarily. When Ouma continues, his voice is back to normal, lively and full of wonder. “But I guess in the end you always find out the truth!”

He can feel the other’s grin on his cheek, and even if he believed with all his might that Ouma would never actually harm someone, would never kill someone (He might be a liar, a prankster, act like everything that’s going on is _oh so great and fun_ , but something deep down told Saihara that the leader was the one who hated this game the most), he still feels relief when the hands leave his neck alone, moving to lay flat on his chest as Ouma sits upright.

“I wonder, though,” He hums, and Saihara feels Ouma’s left hand leave his chest, and sees in his mind the other bringing a finger up to his cheek, like he’s done so many times when questioning something, “If I’m not here to kill you, Saihara-chan, why _am_ I here?”

Saihara sighs, feeling a tinge of annoyance now that he's more awake, “You’re the one who broke into my room. You tell me, Ouma-kun.”

“A-ha! That’s true! Never expected any less from you, The Ultimate Detective, never one to overlook anything, even if you just woke up!” Suddenly, he can’t feel the other’s weight on him anymore, and it’s barely a few seconds when the lights turn on, and Saihara yelps, bringing his hands to his eyes, the brightness too much out of nowhere, blinding him. There’s more laughter at that, and slowly, carefully, while trying to get used to the light, he removes his hands from his face, and glares weakly, wonders if this is another one of his unthordox pranks.

“W-woah! I didn’t know Saihara-chan could look like that…! So scary! I didn't e-even do anything…” by the way Ouma’s voice trembles, and how the corners of his mouth turns downwards, Saihara expects the crocodile tears, feels his jaw clenching remembering how loud he could be those times, and how there were no painkillers left in the drawer for the incoming migraine.

It doesn't happen, and he almost believes in that "Atua" being at that moment, this situation is already horrible enough without the mix of fake crying and shouting. Ouma instead tilts his head, expression changed in the blink of an eye, smile back on his face, and then there's a _click_ , and everything is dark again.

"Saihara-chan, you really look disgusting when you wake up! I can't keep the lights on to look at you!", is this revenge? Had Saihara done something to piss him off without noticing to deserve something like this at the dead of the night? He really cannot think of any other reason this might be happening.

"Ouma-"

"Ah, don't worry, that was a lie!" he laughs, and suddenly the lights are on again, blinding Saihara for the second time that night, “Saihara-chan actually looks _incredibly_ cute, especially with that grumpy face!” off, "Or maybe _that_ is a lie?" on, "Saihara-chan, can you tell?" off, "Hey, tell me!" on, "Saihara-chan, don’t ignore me!” off, on, off, on, off-

At this point, Saihara’s just trying his best to ignore the other, having pulled the pillow over his head, and although that helps a _lot_ with his vision, it actually annoys him _more_ being able to focus on the _click click click click_ as Ouma turns the lights on and off in succession.

Shouldn’t he be bored with that already? He wasn’t saying anything, doing anything, there’s no way Ouma can be having fun like this.

And it’s as if he knew, now everything quiet but that damned _click click click click click click_ , Ouma’s pushing his buttons in ways he didn’t know was possible, the peace from a few minutes ago ( _which felt like eternity, already_ ) forgotten.

 _Click, click, click_ -

And then he’s up, pillow thrown back on the bed, and in a few long steps he’s in front of him, holding his wrist and pulling his hand away from the light switch ( _on_ ), “Ouma-kun, _enough_.” He had been tired beforehand waking up, but now, even though it had barely been a few minutes, he was _exhausted_ as if sleep hadn’t shown itself for weeks. He has no idea how Ouma does it, doesn’t want to know how he does it, only wishes he’d _stop it and leave him alone_.

Saihara expects him to use his crocodile tears, pretend to be upset, but when he looks there’s an excited smile on his face, “Ah~ finally! I was getting bored, y’know! Saihara-chan, you’re so insensible, I’d much rather be sleeping if you were just gonna do nothing.” He has to take a deep breath at that- _don’t retaliate_ \- “Hey, Saihara-chan,” he feels a hand on his cheek, and eyes that he hadn’t even noticed closing in annoyance as he tried to regain control of himself open, alarmed not only by the touch, but also at the sudden change on his voice, once again in that timbre that he had found so peaceful earlier, soft, but now twisted as it’s mixed with a sly grin, “won’t you play with me tonight?”

**Author's Note:**

> s a i h a r a c h a n 
> 
> i might?continue this?if anyone wants it,,,,,,  
> if i do continue tho itll probs go to E rating


End file.
